“Yes,” Jäger said.
“I assume the Israeli woman has him again. She took the fortress with only a megaphone.”
“How is that possible?”
“She asked Omar to stand down the garrison and open the gate. He did, and she walked in with a unit of Zoran the Great’s fighters.”
Jäger gazed past Fuchs and rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand. “She must have recruited Omar when he was her keeper. And then coordinated his fortress handover with an excellent diversion by Zoran the Great to pull out Rivin’s forces. Very impressive. One almost pities the targets of her future operations.”
Fuchs pulled out his pipe and tobacco pouch. “And not to mention how her current operation has completely wrecked ours.”
Jäger’s eyes refocused on him. “Amid chaos, there is also opportunity. Let us go back to their airstrip and set another ambush to take the general away from her again.”
Fuchs raised the assault rifle and rested the barrel on the windowsill, pointing it just past Jäger. “I can’t assist you on that, captain. I’ve decided to resign from this job.”
Jäger viewed the weapon with a disgusted face. “Have you?”
“Yes, I’m heading to the refugee camp.” Fuchs packed his pipe. “I need to have a little fun.”
“With your new friend?” Jäger pointed to the dead man in the passenger seat.
Fuchs put the pipe in his mouth and lit it. “I’ve kept worse company.” He puffed and blew smoke in Jäger’s face. “At least he’ll never stab me in the back.”
Jäger nodded. “Very well. Our association and friendship have ended. But for the sake of better times in the past, would you mind giving me a ride to the airstrip?”
Fuchs grinned. “Staying on the hunt. You must really love that restaurant.”
“About that ride?”
“I would captain, but I’m going the opposite way, and I’m on a very tight schedule.”
“So you will really leave me here without even a way to recross the border and get home.”
“As I said, I’m going in a different direction. But for the sake of better times in the past, there’s an abandoned technical about a kilometer back. It's stalled out but looks to be mechanically undamaged. It does come with a few more travel companions than I have with me, though.”
Fuchs laughed, put the SUV in gear, and sped away.
CHAPTER 42
Molka, Uri, the general, Tariq, and Omar stood together atop “The Red Lion’s Den” south wall and watched the large dust cloud of Zoran the Great’s many vehicles chasing the smaller dust cloud of Rivin’s fewer vehicles toward the fortress.
Omar’s radio blared with desperation.
Terrified men yelling in terrified voices.
Some undoubtedly begging the fortress garrison to open the gate for them.
Eight Rivin vehicles approached the entrance ramp and were greeted by Zoran’s fighters inside the fortress firing Rivin’s own machineguns and mortars down upon them.
Two vehicles disintegrated into flames and smoke.
The six survivors turned wildly away from the fortress and ran headlong into Zoran’s arriving onslaught.
All the vehicles disappeared into a huge, combined dust cloud and small arms fire erupted into an unbroken crackle.
Within 20 seconds, the firing slowed to silence.
Beyond the battlefield, two Rivin SUVs raced south toward the mountain pass leading to the border. By their distance, it was obvious they had broken away from the others and were headed in that direction before the final massacre even started.
Six Zoran vehicles pursued them, but then they all stopped, turned around, and headed back toward the fortress.
The two Rivin vehicles made it through the pass and disappeared across the border.
The dust cloud before the fortress cleared to reveal a tangle of wrecked, shot up, and burning Rivin vehicles and one shot up Zoran vehicle.
Zilan scanned the bloodbath. “There are several wounded still moving.” She ran with her trauma kit bag for the steps leading down to the yard.
The rest of Zoran’s force rolled up the ramp toward the fortress gate, which was opened to a victorious attacking army for the first time in its 1,300-year history.
About 30 minutes later, after all Zoran the Great’s vehicles entered the fortress, the fighters stood at attention, facing the flagpole atop the south wall over the gate.
A Zoran fighter standing alongside the flagpole lowered Rivin’s white flag with the red lion emblem in the center, detached it, and tossed it to the ground. He then attached a Zoran the Great green flag with the gold lion emblem in the center to the flagpole and raised it high.
When the flag unfurled with the gentle breeze, the fighters exploded into chants and cheers, singing and dancing.
Zoran observed his men’s joy with a joyous smile.
A moment later, Omar brought the freed harem girls to Zoran. Zoran hugged and kissed each of them on the forehead.
The girls wept exuberant tears.
Molka, Uri, the general, and Tariq waited in the yard, watching the ceremony and celebration.
Tariq moved closer to Molka. “I think all the goodwill you’ve earned with Zoran the Great to cause this festive occasion will help you when you tell him you’re taking me with you.”
Molka grinned. “You better hope so.”
The general addressed Molka. “When will we be leaving?”
“As soon as we can secure transportation, general. I’m sure Zoran the Great will accommodate us. I’ll ask when he gets a free moment.” Molka turned to Uri. “Unless you, as task leader, would like to make the request?”
Uri nodded. “You’re right, I should.”
“Ok,” Molka said. “After you introduce yourself, make sure you tell him the reason you got captured by Rivin’s men is that you fell for the old false flag trick. I’m sure it’ll give him a good laugh.”
Uri’s face became introspective. “On second thought, since you have already established a repertoire with Zoran the Great, I think it’s better for you to ask him.”
Molka grinned. “Alright.”
The general grunted. “Such amateurs. Until you do finally arrange our transportation, I am going inside to find something to drink and eat. We were not fed today.”
“I’ll join you, general,” Uri said.
The general and Uri moved toward the blockhouse.
Tariq addressed Molka. “I think we should go get the money out of Rivin’s safe now. We can probably find something in the armory to blow it open with.”
“No worries,” Molka said. “The men I came with brought some C-4 block charges.”
Tariq’s face alit. “Wonderful!”
“Um…you do know I’m going to give the money to Zoran the Great as instructed, right?”
“Yes, of course. But….”
“But what?” Molka said.
“But I’ve been thinking that you’ve put yourself in a very advantageous position when it comes to that money.”
Molka sighed. “Ok. I’ll play along. Advantageous in what way?”
“You are personally responsible for Zoran the Great’s greatest victory and ridding him of his greatest foe. The least he could do is let you keep the money.”
Molka laughed and shook her head. “Yes. I’m sure he’ll be happy to do that.”
Tariq’s expression fell serious. “Hear me out on this. Zoran the Great isn’t interested in enriching himself. Never has been. I did my research on him. The fees he’s charged smugglers all these years he’s mostly given away to his people. And all he wants now is to spend his final years making his domain safe and seeing his last unmarried daughter find a good husband. He told me that himself when I met him.”
“Then why did he ask my country for the big courtesy fee?” Molka said.
“He didn’t. They offered it to him to try and earn his respect. And you’ve definitely earned his respect for your country. I’m sure he wou
ld be happy to let you take it back with you.”
“You really think so?”
“Yes.” Tariq’s face teased with an ultra-charismatic smile. “And then you and I could split it 50-50. And I won’t tell Azzur if you don’t.”
Molka smirked. “I should have known where this was going. But you need to worry more about me changing my mind and telling Azzur you tried to steal it in the first place.”
Tariq frowned. “Be serious, Molka, and consider this: Your country won’t miss that money, and if you returned it, it would only be wasted on some other crazy mission. I’m sure you could find a much better use for it.”
“Like what?” Molka said. “Live a luxury way of life? I wouldn’t even know how to do that, and it’s not my style anyway.”
“Well, I've lived rich, and I've lived poor. Trust me, living rich is way better.”
Molka presented a contemplative face. “I should think of much better things to do with it, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Alright. I will think about that while we’re blowing open the safe.”
Tariq beamed.
Zoran’s fighters discovered a cache of wine in the blockhouse and used it to fuel their celebration unabated all around the yard, with Zoran the Great right in the middle of it.
Molka—with the money duffle bag over her shoulder—stood outside the blockhouse door with an anxious Tariq watching.
Omar approached Molka, leading the harem girls. “Zoran the Great has put them in my care. I will now take them home and then return to my home.”
Molka smiled. “I’m very happy for you, my friend.”
Omar smiled. “Thank you. And goodbye, my friend.”
Molka’s body disappeared from sight when the gigantic Omar hugged her. He released her and led the girls to a waiting Zoran SUV.
A moment later, the general, Uri, and Zilan exited the blockhouse and joined Molka and Tariq.
Molka addressed Zilan. “How are the wounded?”
“Our man is good. Three of Rivin’s, not so good. I’m going to take them to the clinic tonight and do what I can to stabilize them and then try to get them to a hospital in Mardin tomorrow.”
“Did you see Rivin in the wreckage?”
“No. My father says he realized what was happening here and sent his men to their deaths while he broke off and ran across the border to safety.”
Molka frowned and shook her head. “Seems like the worst ones always get away.”
“For the moment,” Zilan said.
“We need to leave,” Molka said. “Could you ask your father to get us a ride to our plane?”
“Of course.”
Zilan moved across the yard to where Zoran talked with a group of fighters. She spoke to him, and they both moved back to where Molka and the others waited.
Zilan addressed Molka. “My father says you may use his personal SUV.” She pointed to the white vehicle parked nearest the open front gate. “But you must drive yourselves and leave it to be picked up later. He does not wish to take his men away from their fun.”
Molka nodded humbly to Zoran. “Thank you. I have one other request. Tariq has apologized to me for his treacherous actions, and I have accepted his apology. And I wish to take him with me. He has more services to perform for my country.”
Zilan translated.
Zoran spoke to Molka.
When he finished, Tariq’s face froze in dread.
Zilan translated to Molka. “My father says he thought you would ask this. This is why he has not spoken to Tariq yet. But now he will speak to Tariq’s fate.”
Zoran spoke again.
When he finished, Tariq closed his eyes and bowed his head.
Zilan translated to Molka. “My father says Tariq should consider himself the most fortunate man in the world today that you have made this request on his behalf. And that he will grant your request, and, out of respect to you, he will also forgive Tariq for his wrongdoings.”
Zoran spoke.
Zilan translated. “My father says the pretty warrior woman from Tel Aviv will never be forgotten by Zoran the Great and that his people shall sing songs of her praises forevermore.”
Molka nodded to Zoran humbly again and handed him the duffle bag. “Thank you for all your help.”
Zilan translated.
Zoran spoke.
Zilan translated to Molka. “My father says he would like to give you this money as a small payment for debts he owes to you that he can never fully repay.”
Zoran passed the duffle bag back to Molka.
The general viewed the bag and frowned.
Uri viewed the bag and smirked.
Tariq viewed the bag and beamed.
Molka viewed the bag and grinned. “This is the kind of money that can change my life and change the lives of people like me. And I thank Zoran the Great for the generous gesture. And I must confess, while we were blowing the safe open, I thought about all the good things I could do with it.” She winked at Tariq.
Tariq’s beaming face beamed brighter.
Molka continued. “So I would like to donate this to the Mucize clinic to adequately supply it and buy new equipment and to hire full-time doctors so it may become a much-needed hospital.”
Molka offered the bag to Zilan.
Tariq’s chin fell to his chest.
Zilan took the bag, burst into tears, hugged Molka, and translated to Zoran.
Zoran embraced Molka, kissed her on the forehead, rejoined his fighters, and spoke to them.
They all turned to face Molka, fired their weapons into the air, and chanted:
“Molka!”
“Molka!”
“Molka!”
“Molka!”
Molka smiled and waved to them and then addressed her people. “Well, my father used to say it’s always better to leave a party a little too early than a little too late. Time to go.”
Molka, the general, and Uri moved toward the SUV.
Tariq stayed behind with Zilan.
Zilan watched Molka walk away and wiped her eyes. “Her selfless act will help so many people. I hope she has a happy life in spite of all her personal pain.”
Tariq viewed the duffle bag at Zilan’s feet and sighed. “But some things are just not meant to be.” He smiled at Zilan. “I’m going to miss you, beautiful nurse. And I’m also going to miss….”
“Your home?” Zilan said.
“Yes. This will always be my home, even if I can’t be here.”
Zilan smiled. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you’ve matured. A little.”
“Don’t give me too much credit yet. And…well…I can’t promise I’ll ever come back here again, but if I do, and you’re still free….” Tariq’s face teased with an ultra-charismatic smile. “Maybe we could get to know each other a lot more intimately.” He moved in for a cheek kiss.
Zilan pushed him away with a playful smile. “Come back first. Then we’ll talk about it.”
CHAPTER 43
Molka sped Zoran’s white SUV on the dirt road running east-west across the broad, sparsely vegetated valley strewn with boulders and large rock formations until they came parallel to the green grassy plateau containing the airstrip.
She turned north off the road and began to negotiate the boulder and rock formation obstacles separating the road from the plateau.
In the front passenger seat, the general held his cigar high to protect it from the jostling Molka’s evasive maneuvers inflicted on the vehicle and Uri and Tariq bounced and rocked silently in the backseat.
About 40-meters from the plateau, Molka drove around a house-high rock formation and almost collided with a dark green Rivin SUV parked askew.
The SUV’s rear window contained two bullet holes, and its dead driver lay slumped over the steering wheel.
Molka stopped beside it, and everyone viewed.
Uri spoke. “He tried to run from Zoran the Great, and this is as far as he made it.”
Molka drove on
another few minutes until they reached the plateau’s edge. She gunned the engine to climb the steep slope and crested it onto the airstrip’s south end.
At the north end, the Cessna still waited in takeoff position.
Molka raced the airstrip’s length and parked just off it across from the aircraft.
Everyone exited.
Molka left the keys in the ignition and the borrowed AK-47 on the floorboard.
Uri viewed the windsock. “We have two big departure problems.”
“Which are?” Molka said.
“First of all—"
The Cessna’s left-side gull-wing door popped open.
The pilot’s seat was occupied by a crouching man:
Fuchs.
He aimed an MPT-76 assault rifle at the foursome.
Fuchs yelled in English. “Hands over your heads! Now!”
The startled foursome complied.
While keeping his weapon pointed at his targets, Fuchs—with binoculars hanging from his neck—climbed from the cockpit, onto the wing, hopped to the ground, and addressed Molka. “Lift your shirt with your left hand and spin around.”
Molka complied.
“Where’s your weapon, Israeli woman?”
“You just saw that I don’t have one,” Molka said.
“That means you left it in the SUV.”
Uri addressed Fuchs. “You’re making a huge mistake. You better just let us leave with the general. If you don’t, our people will—"
Fuchs stepped forward and thrust the rifle butt semi-hard into Uri’s temple.
Uri reeled back and winced.
Fuchs glared at him. “No talking unless spoken to! Get your hands back up!”
Uri complied.
Fuchs looked to Tariq. “Get her weapon.”
Tariq walked to the SUV, retrieved Molka’s AK-47, and moved beside Fuchs.
Fuchs placed his left hand on Tariq’s shoulder and grinned at Molka. “This man is a genius. I can see why your people want him. He promised me that after he let you escape ‘The Red Lion’s Den,’ you would come straight back and break the general out.”
Molka glared at Tariq. “And then he made sure I would bring the general straight to you. Again. What do you get out of it this time?”
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